Chapter 6: She Came to the House
The knock came at eight-fifteen the next morning.
I was still in my robe.
Daniel had just left for work — an early meeting he couldn't reschedule.
I opened the door expecting Patricia.
It was Megan.
She was dressed like she'd thought carefully about it.
Hair done.
Nice blouse.
The children were not with her.
She was holding a small paper bag from the bakery two streets over, the kind of gesture that was meant to say *I come in peace* before a single word was spoken.
I didn't move from the doorway.
"I think we should talk," she said.
"I think you should have called first."
"You wouldn't have answered."
That was true.
I stepped back and let her in, because I wanted to hear what she'd decided to say.
I wanted to see which version of Megan had shown up — the one who was sorry, or the one who was scared.
She set the bag on the counter.
I didn't touch it.
"I know you're angry," she started.
"That's a mild way to put it."
"What happened with the car—" She stopped.
Pressed her lips together.
Started again.
"The kids got carried away.
I should have been watching them more carefully."
"That's not what the recording says."
Her eyes went to mine.
Quick.
Sharp.
Then back to neutral.
"Marcus had no right to record a private conversation."
"And you had no right to send your children to destroy our property.
So here we are."
She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down without being invited.
I stayed standing.
"I'll pay for the repairs," she said.
"Half."
"The estimate is four thousand two hundred dollars.
You'll pay all of it."
"That's not—"
"Megan." I kept my voice level.
"You coached your children to do this.
We have your voice on a recording saying so.
The insurance company has already been notified that the damage was intentional.
If you want to negotiate, you can do it through them.
Or you can write a check directly to us and we don't involve anyone else."
She looked at the bag she'd brought.
Some of the composure slipped.
"I've been struggling," she said.
"Financially.
It's been a hard year."
"I know what a hard year looks like," I said.
"We spent three of them saving for that car while paying off my mother's cancer treatment.
You knew that.
You knew exactly what that car meant to us.
And you still did it."
"I was angry—"
"About what?" I said.
"What did we do to you, Megan?
What did I ever do to you besides tell you the truth when no one else would?"
She didn't answer right away.
And in that pause, I saw something I hadn't expected.
Not remorse, exactly.
Something smaller and sadder than that.
Something that looked almost like recognition.
"You make everything look easy," she said finally.
"You and Daniel.
The house, the car, the life.
It all just — works for you."
"It doesn't just work," I said.
"We work.
There's a difference."
She stood up.
The composure was back, but thinner now.
"I'll pay the full amount.
I'll need a payment plan."
"Talk to the insurance company.
Their contact is in the letter we sent."
She picked up her bag from the counter.
At the door, she stopped.
"The other things," she said.
Without turning around.
"The job.
The studio space.
I want you to know—"
"I know," I said.
"And so does Daniel.
And so does Marcus.
And by the end of this week, so will the rest of the family."
Her hand tightened on the door frame.
"You don't have to do that," she said quietly.
"No," I said.
"I don't have to.
But I'm going to."
She left without another word.
I stood in the kitchen for a moment after the door closed.
Then I picked up my phone and called Daniel.
"She was here," I said when he answered.
"What did she say?"
"She offered half.
I said no.
She agreed to the full amount."
"Good." A pause.
"Are you okay?"
I looked at the paper bag still sitting on my counter.
"She said we make everything look easy."
"What did you say?"
"I told her there's a difference between easy and earned."
He was quiet for a moment.
"I love you."
"I know," I said.
"Come home early if you can.
We need to talk about Sunday."
Sunday was when Patricia had agreed to come.
And Sunday was when everything was going to be said out loud, in one room, with no one able to pretend they hadn't heard it.
May you like
Megan didn't know yet that Patricia was coming.
Or what Patricia had agreed to bring with her.
